Title: We Looked Like Giants
Summary: Harry realizes who he's supposed to be with. A sweet little songfic.
Ship: H/D, the only way to be!
Rating: M for slashtacular sex.
Disclaimer: Death Cab For Cutie owns the song, J.K. Rowling owns the characters, and I own nada. Sue me not.
God bless the daylight
The sugary smell of springtime
Remembering when you were mine
In a still suburban town
Harry threaded his fingers through Susan's as they walked towards the Great Lake one sunny afternoon during lunch hour. She blushed prettily, as she always did when he initiated any sort of contact, and continued telling him…something about Charms yesterday, Harry wasn't sure. He didn't mind that she tended to be on the overly chatty side, because it allowed for his mind to wander without fear of her suddenly pausing, waiting for him to contribute to the conversation. He looked around the field, noticing that a lot of students had thought along the same lines and brought their lunch outside to eat. He couldn't blame them—the weather had been absolutely wonderful for the past couple days, warm with a bit of a breeze that lightly blew the fresh scent of the newly emerging flowers from the ground. Susan pointed out a spot for them to sit under a nearby tree, and Harry nodded. Once they settled and began eating, she sighed softly and half-leaned against Harry, munching her sandwich thoughtfully.
"You're very quiet today. Is anything wrong?"
Harry glanced over at the shimmering lake and the first years throwing in their leftover chicken wings, hoping to attract the giant squid. They were granted their wish, and leaped back, squealing and giggling.
"No, nothing's wrong." Harry wondered if 'today' really meant 'all the time'. Verbose as she was, he wasn't positive she didn't notice his silence. Granted, it never seemed to bother her before. Maybe he wasn't as good an actor as he thought.
He suddenly realized she still hadn't said anything. He straightened up and looked at her. She was staring down at their entwined fingers, her long curtain of ash blonde hair covering her face.
"Susan?"
"Sometimes I think you get tired of me, Harry," she blurted suddenly. "Do you?"
Grey eyes flashed through his mind; harsh, piercing, lustful. He swallowed and willed the image away.
"No." He pushed back her hair and tucked it behind her ear, silently breathing a sigh of relief that she wasn't crying. "Absolutely not."
The same eyes mocked him as he lovingly lifted her chin to kiss her.
When every Thursday
I'd brave those mountain passes
You'd skip your early classes
And we learned how our bodies worked
Susan had, as Harry expected, been hesitant to have sex.
"It's not that I don't want to," she told him apologetically, after yet another heated moment that left Harry aroused and unsatisfied. "I'm just…scared."
Harry told her it was okay, he understood. They parted ways and Harry forced himself to take a cold shower, instead of relying on his hand to bring him off. He wasn't positive his mind would conjure an image of Susan, and didn't want to find out for sure.
Some time later as they lay together in Harry's bed, she turned and kissed him, softly, but with purpose.
"I'm ready," she whispered against his lips. They made love, gently and quietly, and Harry held her as she cried softly.
She cried again tonight, allowing herself to be pulled into his embrace but not answering when he asked what was wrong.
God damn the black night
With all its foul temptations
I'd become what I always hated
When I was with you then
"Harry, Malfoy keeps looking at you." Ron did little to hide the disgust and bafflement in his voice.
"Does he?" Harry asked mildly. He didn't need Ron to tell him. He could feel the blond's gaze burning into his back.
"Yes, and it's a bit disturbing really," Ron answered, shoveling a bite of potatoes into his mouth, glaring.
"Ron, don't worry about Malfoy. And please, close your mouth when you chew," Hermione reprimanded, making an indignant sound when Ron grinned at her, potato mush bulging through his teeth.
Harry tried to ignore the relentless pounding of his heart and continue eating, although the last thing his stomach wanted was food and his hands were shaking too much, anyway.
He didn't have a clue what this weird thing was with Malfoy. Granted, Voldemort was gone, and in the end Malfoy and a few of his friends had helped defeat him, but that in no way fostered any sort of friendship between any of them. At all.
Harry had desperately tried to keep from reminding himself of this the first time he'd noticed that Malfoy wasn't exactly the ugly git he'd always accused him of being.
It was during a Slytherin/Hufflepuff match, one of those games that almost seemed pointless, because it was clear who would win. Draco had been almost unbearably cocky, taunting the Hufflepuff seeker and performing complicated broom tricks to wow the crowd. Ron and Hermione were, predictably, righteously angry, but Harry couldn't drag his eyes away from him and join their bitter conversation. His flying was so sure, so…poetic, it looked as if he were born on the broom. His lean body twisted and curved gracefully with each dive and turn, ice-blond hair pulled back in a tight ponytail so it wouldn't get in his eyes. Harry found himself absently wishing that he had left it out; the shoulder-length tresses seemed impossibly silky to the touch and he longed to see it whipping around his face…
He drowned out Ron and Hermione's cries of dismay as Draco's fingers closed over the snitch, watching as the Slytherin pumped a victorious fist in the air, a broad, genuine smile on his face, flushed red from flying. To Harry's startled surprise, Draco locked eyes with him as he zigzagged to the ground, an indecipherable expression on his face. Ginny had to call his name three times before he looked around and saw his friends were leaving the pitch.
Since then Harry and Draco had been sharing heated looks everywhere—in the dining hall, in classes, when they passed in the halls…Harry didn't know what they meant or why they continued, but he never felt more alive than when those grey eyes were fixed on him, as if the foggy dream bubble he normally lived in was pierced, leaving the world suddenly visible in stark clarity.
He has to know I'm looking, Harry thought. Why doesn't he look up?
There were a few students studying in the library that Thursday afternoon, and Harry had discovered after sitting down and taking his books out that his seat offered him the perfect view of Draco, sitting a couple tables away, to his right. He'd felt himself turn slightly red at the sudden violent lurch his stomach had given and quickly looked down to his notes, but soon found himself sneaking another glance.
Draco was obviously completely absorbed in whatever he was working on. His robes were off and draped on the back of another chair, the strong line of his back and shoulders visible through his white button-down. He was very tense, Harry noticed. He flipped a couple pages in his book, brow furrowed as he read silently to himself and then wrote on his parchment. Referring back to the book, he ran a pale hand through his hair to get it out of his face, Harry following the movement with bated breath. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat as Draco slowly licked his lips, then dragged his lower lip into his mouth to bite it thoughtfully, at the same time loosening his tie and unbuttoning the first two buttons on his shirt.
When Draco suddenly put down his quill and stretched, his long arms raised above his head and torso stretching with an almost feline grace, Harry realized with a shock that he was painfully hard.
Just as he came to this realization he felt soft lips touch his cheek and gasped, startled. Susan giggled playfully and before Harry could turn around he saw Malfoy's head snap suddenly toward the distraction. His eyes narrowed slightly as he took in Harry's flushed cheeks and parted lips, and he gave Susan a quick glare before turning back to his work, a dull flush rising up the back of his neck.
Harry apologetically told Susan he had a killer essay for Potions; he'd see her later tonight. After she left, he tried to feel bad, but couldn't shake the feeling of nervousness and heady excitement, now that he and Malfoy were once again alone. He jumped again when a gentle hand touched his shoulder and warm lips brushed by his ear.
"Charms classroom tonight at ten," Malfoy whispered, his breath blowing warming Harry's neck and sending shivers down his spine. He watched in dumb fascination as Malfoy walked away without ever turning to look back.
Of course, he didn't have to go. Harry sat restlessly in the common room that night, trying to make it look like he was paying attention to the conversation happening around him. How dare Malfoy assume he'd just show up? He didn't even stop to ask if their little rendezvous time was alright with Harry. He'd just walked away, cocky as ever.
Harry stared into the crackling fireplace. No, he shouldn't go. Besides, what about Susan? She didn't deserve this.
No, he wasn't going. Malfoy could find some other bloke to play with.
Harry failed at trying to ignore the blast of sick jealousy that arose within him at that thought.
Damn it.
"Harry, where are you going?" Ginny suddenly asked, looking up to find Harry nearly out of the portrait hole.
Harry's mind scrambled. "I, um, left…something in—"
"He's going to see Susan, Ginny, what do you think?" Ron interrupted, giving Harry a roguish grin. "Go on, mate, we won't wait up."
Harry tried to smile back. "Yeah, alright…thanks," he muttered, quickly turning and walking out. Guilt was washing over him in waves, but his feet had a mind of their own as he made his way towards the abandoned room on the fourth floor. He pushed the door open and was mildly surprised to see a dark figure sitting on a desk facing him. He'd managed to half-convince himself that it was all a big joke.
"Thought I wouldn't show up?" Malfoy asked, reading Harry's face accurately. He jumped off the desk and began walking over to him. Harry stepped back involuntarily, though his body screamed for him to come closer.
"What is this all about, Malfoy?" he asked shakily. He thought he knew, but wanted to hear Malfoy say it.
"What do you think, Potter?" Malfoy asked quietly, suddenly pulling out his wand. Harry flinched, but before he could reach back to get his own, he heard the door shut and lock. He looked up at Malfoy, who was now so close that Harry's back was against the wall.
"I—I don't know," he stammered, unable to tear his gaze away from Malfoy's face. His hair was in his eyes, partially obscuring them, but his mouth was curled into that telltale adorable—since when was it adorable? Harry wondered—smirk.
"Oh really? You don't know?" Malfoy cut off anything Harry was about to say but suddenly leaning in and biting Harry's ear then teasing it with his tongue. Harry bit back a loud moan and arched into the blond, turning his head to catch Malfoy's mouth in a bruising kiss.
It certainly didn't end that night. Harry was both half-hoping and half-afraid this was their first and last meeting, a mutual lust that was identified, acted upon, and therefore extinguished.
He couldn't have been more wrong.
The heated glances turned into meaningful stares, then pushes and shoves, while appearing to the outsider to be rough and hostile, were actually lingering and intimate, Draco knowing exactly where to place his hands to make Harry gasp and try to quell his arousal. Luckily, his friends hadn't noticed—only shook their heads and muttered threats at Malfoy's retreating back—and even more luckily, neither did Susan.
Susan. Harry's thoughts strayed to her this evening as he elicited moan after delicious moan from Draco in an abandoned Arithmancy classroom. Since the afternoon they'd had lunch together she'd been distant, pulling subtly away from his touches and smiling half-heartedly when he made a joke. He felt trapped—she was beautiful, smart, incredibly sweet and the perfect match for him, according to all of his friends—but he could no longer deny that he never felt more alive than he did with Draco. He hated what he was doing to her and, admittedly, what he was doing to himself—no matter how great or satisfying things with Draco were now, he knew it would end badly. Yet he continued anyway. Why?
He had no bloody idea.
"Harry," Draco breathed, running his cool fingers down Harry's bare back. Harry looked up into half-lidded, lust-glazed eyes, and felt a peculiar twinge in his chest. He captured Draco's mouth in a deep, slow kiss, only pulling back half an inch to whisper against his mouth.
"Pavesco."
He didn't turn around as he left the classroom, shaking with the realization of what he'd just done. He was confident Draco would know that was the Gryffindor password; now his only concern was if he would actually come. Although they confined their assignations to broomclosets and empty classrooms, both of them were aware that they were quickly headed for a fork in the road: either part ways now, before they were in too deep, or end it and go on with their separate lives, like they knew they should. As if reinforcing this, they had a tacit agreement to not have sex; that would catapult them over the edge, surely.
But Harry had just extended the invitation knowingly. Rushing out of Gryffindor tower after grabbing his Firebolt for Quidditch practice, he forced himself to think of anything but the possibility of Draco not showing up tonight.
And we looked like giants
In the back of my grey subcompact
Fumbling to make contact
As the others slept inside
Harry's eyes flew open when he heard the dormitory door creak open. Staring unbelievably at the widening shaft of light that illuminated the wall opposite his bed for a couple seconds, he was positive the drumming of his heart would soon awaken the whole castle.
He turned over and saw Draco standing uncertainly at the door, looking with narrowed eyes around the room until he saw Harry's bed in the corner. Straightening his shoulders, he quietly closed the door and walked over.
Blinking at the Slytherin standing over his bed, Harry sat up awkwardly.
"Do you want to get in?" he whispered, drawing back the covers and feeling foolish. Draco remained in the same spot looking at Harry with an unreadable expression on his face. The gentle snores alerted Harry to the fact that should one of his roommates suddenly wake up, he'd have a hell of a lot of explaining to do.
Draco seemingly made up his mind and kicked off his shoes, quickly sliding into the warm bed. Harry let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding and spelled the curtains shut, casting a strong Silencing Charm also. He put down his wand and turned to Draco, who still hadn't offered any clue to what he was feeling.
"You shouldn't have come," Harry said plainly, barely managing to control the waver in his voice.
"I know."
Harry felt like someone had dropped a ball of lead in his stomach, and he tried not to let it show on his face. "Well, if you don't want—"
Draco leaned over swiftly and swallowed the rest of Harry's words; his eyes shut tightly as he pulled Harry on top of him and allowed Harry to dominate the kiss. Harry felt his arousal shoot through the roof as Draco arched into him and widened his legs, and pulled away, panting, to look into Draco's flushed face.
"Draco?" he questioned, his hands already sliding up Draco's shirt to the smooth skin underneath. Draco nodded, clutching Harry closer.
"Now. Please."
Harry nearly moaned from the longing in his voice, and soon both boys were lost in the familiar sensations—touching, biting, licking, rubbing, sucking—all with aching slowness, such unbearable pleasurable that it bordered on pain. Draco was moaning continuously now, fevered and sweating, fingers scrabbling over Harry's shoulders as he yearned to get closer. Harry placed hot, openmouthed kisses along his neck and chest as he prepared him, trembling with arousal and eagerness. And when he slid into Draco, he knew, as they both froze against each other in that brief moment in ecstasy, that he was completely head over heels for Draco Malfoy and little else mattered.
And together there
In the shroud of frost, the mountain air
Began to pass
Through every pane of weathered glass
"Stay," he whispered breathlessly into Draco's ear when they collapsed together, utterly spent and already slipping into boneless lethargy. To his sleepy delight, Draco pulled in closer, draping his left arm over Harry's back and sliding a leg between his, so that nearly every part of their bodies were touching.
"I wasn't going anywhere," Draco murmured, his breath tickling Harry's neck, and within seconds both of them were asleep.
And I held you closer
Than anyone would ever get
Pavesco: I'm shaking
If you review, I will send you one of Draco's thongs.